Confederate States of America
by IhugNico
Summary: The Confederacy was defeated a long time ago. But the nation himself still survies. Here is the story of Beauregard Johnson, the Confederate States of America. First APH story, DISCONTINUED
1. Prolouge

Prologue

A battle raged around them as a brown-haired man lay on the ground, his back split open so it was directly over his spine.

Another man, this one dirty blonde, walked up to him. He was dressed in a navy blue uniform and had very little scratches on him, "Beau." He said.

The man on the ground looked up at him, his green eyes meeting the blond man's blue ones. "Don't call me that." He snarled through gritted teeth.

The blond shrugged, "Suit yourself."

The brunette man thumped his head back against the ground, panting, "What do you want?"

The blond folded his arms behind his back. "Well, you see, Confederacy, if I may call you that. Your armies have surrendered, yet you have not. And look where that has gotten you?" He motioned to the man's back.

Confederacy winced, then looked up to glare at the man, "I'll never give up, America. My country may be gone. But I am not."

America frowned, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Have you not had enough? You've lost the one you love, lost your respect, and nearly lost your life, and you still choose to fight?"

Confederacy sat up and winced as pressure was put on his back, "You are a fool, America, and always will be. And a hypocrite, at that. You only wanted your independence from Britain. We only asked the same thing, yet you stopped us."

America, instead of answering, only frowned, "You're dying, Beauregard Johnson, admit it."

Confederacy simply growled, "You brother, are a fool." Then he lay back on the ground, "Leave me, if I am to die, I don't want your ugly face to be the last thing I see."

America shrugged, "Suit yourself." Then he turned and walked away from his brother.

Confederacy panted, his breathing labored, lying mortally wounded in his own blood.

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><p><em><strong>My first APH story, So,<strong>_

_**Reveiw!**_


	2. Chapter 1

Beau stalked through the woods. He muttered something about "They're fools, all of them."

He had been living in his country's former capital in Montgomery. His back stung as if it was filled with poison, probably meaning that the wound was re-opened. But not completely, otherwise he wouldn't of been able to walk without pain shooting up his spine.

He collapsed when he finally got inside. He mumbled something and rolled over on his side, he held in a groan as the boards brushed against his wounds.

When the pain had somewhat subsided, Confederacy stood up and went to his room. His long pale fingers brushed against the telephone hesitantly, deciding on whether or not he should call for help.

He shook his head and instantly put it down. He sighed, deciding to see the damage that the Union had done to his country. He hadn't seen the damage to Atlanta for himself, he had been too afraid to see it. He had felt it when it burned to the ground, but not seen it.

Confederacy limped out side and walked over to his horse. It skittered when it smelt blood, Beau growled and grabbed the horse's reins, "Hold still!" He hissed.

He finally managed to scramble up onto the horse and grunted, if he started now he'd be able to get there by sundown.

He mumbled something to himself and dug his heels into the horse's side. It whinnied and galloped forward, Beau winced every time its hooves hit the ground.

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The sun was nearly setting by time he got to the city. Confederacy yanked on the horses rein's and it skidded to a halt.

He stared out at the ruins, he actually felt a tear come to his eye.

His brother, his own brother, had done this. Beau shook his head and rubbed his eyes.

He couldn't take anymore riding and his horse was weary. So he decided to stay there for the night.

Confederacy swung his leg over the horses side and stumbled getting off, causing him to fall to the ground. He let out a sharp yelp and gingerly felt his back.

The wound was now completely re-opened, much to Beau's dismay. He groaned and his vision went blurry before it completely blacked out.

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><p><em><strong>Yes, it is possible to get from Montgomery to Atlanta in about fifteen hours by horse. I looked it up.<strong>_

_**Reveiw!**_


	3. Chapter 2

Confederacy woke up in a bed. He was lying on his stomach in an awkward position. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, looking around him.

There was a woman standing over him, she had olive skin and black hair. She murmured something in what sounded like Spanish while she worked on his back.

Beau yelped and swatted at the woman's hands, "Get your paws off me!" He snapped.

The woman's eyes widened and she stepped back; she raised her fist and started shaking it angrily while chattering in Spanish.

Confederacy groaned and put his hands over his ears, "I don't speak Spanish!"

The woman paused, then switched to English, "I suppose that's how inconsiderate fools take help these days!"

Confederacy frowned, "What are you talking about, woman?"

The woman growled, "I was _helping _you!"

Confederacy frowned, "Help? Help with what?"

The woman jabbed a finger at his back wound, causing him to scream.

The woman glared at him, "That!"

Beau whimpered, "You call that helping? "

The woman folded her arms, "No. That wasn't the helping part."

Beau glared at her, "Then why'd you do it?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "You don't scare me. You're just a little boy."

Confederacy pouted and crossed his arms, "Am not! And who are you anyways?"

The woman frowned and pointed at Confederacy, "First, you tell me who you are."

Confederacy grinned, puffing out his chest, "Beauregard Johnson, the Confederate States of America!"

The woman looked him up and down, "The South?"

Confederacy frowned, "No one calls me South anymore, I'm Confederacy now."

The woman grit her teeth, "You don't recognize me?"

Beau looked her up and down, then shook his head, "Um. No."

The woman growled, "I'm Mexico. You remember me now?"

Beau thought for a minute, he searched his memory. Mexico… What did he know about Mexico?

Finally, he remembered something about a war. "You fought me and America in a war! We won! I remember now!"

Mexico nodded, "In which case, you should be even more grateful for me helping you. If I would've known who you were in the first place, I would've left you for the wolves."

Beau blinked, emerald eyes wide. Then his gaze fell to the ground, "Jeez. I feel so welcome."

Mexico huffed and turned around, "I'll take care of you until your back heals. But as soon as that happens, you're gone. Understand?"

Beau blinked and nodded slowly.

Mexico nodded, "Good." Before turning on her heel and leaving the room.

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America leaned up against the doorway, staring at the rain. "I miss him…" He whispered, his tears almost in sync with the rain.

England went over and put a hand on his shoulder, "You can't help it. He left you, I'm sorry."

_Now he knows how I felt… _England thought, referring to the Revolutionary War.

America rubbed his eyes, "No, it's not just that. It's the fact that I _left _him there. I just left him there with no help at all."

England leaned against the wall, folding his arms, "Well, Confederacy is strong. I'm sure he's fine."

America turned to him, "No, you don't understand. His back was completely sliced open. Split right down the middle! He's probably dead…" America choked on his words and put his forehead against the wall, closing his eyes.

England sighed, "Well, where did you leave him?"

America thought for a moment, "About thirty miles from here."

England thought for a moment and stared at the roof, "Do you have a spare horse?"

America looked up at him, his eyes rimmed with red. "I took one of the stray horses from the battlefield. Thought I could sell it, since it was the only one that wasn't too badly injured."

England nodded, "Gear up the horses, don't bother putting a saddle on mine, it'll take too long. Once you're ready, we can see if we can go find him." He didn't want to say _retrieve his body _otherwise America would start bawling like a baby.

America nodded, straightening up and walking outside.

England sighed, watching as America walked over to the two horses. He glanced up at the ceiling again, it was three days since the incident.

What would America do if Beau wasn't there?

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><p><em><strong>In case you haven't figured this out already, this is not set in modern times. It is set in 1865, the year may change but it will be set in the 1800's<strong>_

_**Reveiw! I'll give you a cookie!**_


	4. Chapter 3

Beau could think of about a million different places he'd rather be and about ten people he would rather had taking care of him. (And no, America wasn't one of them.)

He could feel the hostility radiating off of Mexico like heat waves. She would walk in, put fresh bandages on his back, mumble something incoherent irritatedly then snort before walking out of the room.

Beau sighed, rolling over on his stomach. The thing he wanted more than anything was to get out of there.

Why did that Yankee soldier cut his back like that? He could remember it so clearly…

_Confederacy was maneuvering his way through the battlefield. _

_He tried to stay on the outskirts of the battle. Suddenly, a hand grabbed his shoulder and slammed him against a tree._

_When his vision finally cleared, he saw a man in a navy blue uniform glaring at him, pinning him to the tree by his neck._

_Confederacy scowled, "What do you want, Yankee?"_

_The Yankee snarled, "To see you die, Rebel."_

_Confederacy glared some more. The Yankee looked him up and down, "You seem a bit young to be a soldier, boy."_

_Confederacy folded his arms indignantly, "I am _not_ too young to be a nation!"_

_The Yankee snarled and spun Confederacy around so that his back was to the soldier._

_The Yankee raised his bayonet, making a smooth slice all the way down Confederacy's back. _

_Confederacy screamed in pain and tried to squirm free, which only caused him more grief._

_The Yankee threw him on the ground and kicked him against a tree. He seemed to forget he had a gun, (thank goodness) and picked up Confederacy by the front of his shirt, slamming him harshly against the tree._

_Confederacy yelped, feeling splinters get into his wounds. His eyes started to water and the Yankee raised his fist. Confederacy's eyes widened and he flinched away from him._

_Right as the Yankee was about to strike, a voice screeched "NO!" and tackled the Yankee._

_Confederacy fell to the ground, he never found out who it was that had saved him, and he was so dizzy he couldn't place the voice. _

_He suspected it was Lee, his general. But he blacked out before he could confirm or prove wrong this statement._

Beau sighed at the memory, he had so many things on his mind. How he was going to get back his country, how he was going to escape Mexico without her seeing, what she had done with his horse, but mostly, who was the person that saved him?

Beau turned his head and looked out the window, he saw it was getting late and started to feel sleepy. He yawned, deciding to ponder on it more in the morning. He laid his head against his pillow and closed his eyes.

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><p><em><strong>In the next chapter, we check up on America and England, and have a flashback.<br>Also, if I ever made a funny story with Beau/Confederacy, he would probably quote Charlie teh unicron. "That's right America, we're going to war! We're goin to war!"**_

_**Anyways,**_

_**Reveiw! **_


	5. Chapter 4

England and America rode quietly along the trail.

Neither said a word. The silence was only broken by the clopping of their horse's hooves.

America than whispered, "It's just up ahead."

England nodded, he thought he heard something. Like the whinny of a horse, curious, England trotted up so he was beside America. "You go ahead, I need to check something. I'll catch up with you."

America nodded, slightly kicking his horse to go faster and it darted off along the path.

England turned toward the noise, following it. Slowly, the whinnying got louder. He finally emerged in a clearing. He looked around and then he saw it. It was a horse, a black and white pinto to be exact.

It was hopelessly tangled in brambles, squirming and thrashing, trying to break free. However, this was only making it worse.

England went over to it, examining it. It was not wild, because it had a saddle.

He sighed, realizing that even if he got the horse untangled, it wouldn't matter. It had to be at least lame by all of that thrashing.

England walked over to his own horse, taking his rifle out and walking back over to the pinto.

He held it up and the horse neighed some more, thrashing even more violently. "Sorry, old chap, there's not much else to do but put you out of your misery."

The horse whinnied squirming some more.

England readied his gun, aiming at the horse. He put his finger over the trigger and pulled.

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America heard a faint gunshot in the distance, but he didn't give it any attention.

He urged his horse into a gallop, then yanked back hard when he saw a lone dark shape in the middle of some trees.

He dismounted his horse and ran over to it, then stopped in his tracks. He walked up slowly, then got down on his knees in front of the area.

"Why?" he whispered.

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England trotted up to America's horse and dismounted, before running over to America himself, "Hey, America. Did you-"

He stopped. America was on his knees, kneeling in front of a scarlet stain in the grass.

The stain was there…But no Beau.

England went up, "America… I-I'm bloody sorry…"

America shook his head, not saying a word. He stood up and started to walk back towards the horses.

England sighed and followed. "You know what's funny?" He said, "That there's no Beau, as in he was probably dragged off-"

America flinched.

England paused, then continued, "Yet there's no blood trail. If his back was that bad he would of left a trail if he was dragged off."

America blinked and turned around, "What were you doing? I heard a gunshot."

England blinked, "Huh? Oh, well, there was a horse tangled in the brambles. I had to put it down because there was no way to untangle it."

America looked up, "A horse? Was it wild?"

England shook his head, "That's the strange thing. It had a saddle and bridle."

America stepped forward. "Can you show me it?"

England blinked, puzzled, but nodded, "Uh, sure…"

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England and America rode up to the clearing.

The horse, which had been thrashing before, now lay still on the ground.

America examined it, then whispered, his voice barely audible. "That was Beau's horse…"

England blinked, "Oh… Uh bloody sorry, mate." He mumbled.

America sighed and closed his eyes, then he seemed to immediately perk up. He turned to face England "Wait… What did you say before? About leaving a trail?"

England furrowed his brow in confusion, "That if Beau was dragged off with a wound that bad, it would've left a trail."

America seemed to get giddy, "What if he wasn't dragged off? Maybe he walked away by himself! He might be alive!"

Now, England could think of a bunch of different other explanations of why Beau's body wasn't there and he clearly had not been dragged off by an animal. But he didn't want to tell America that.

America galloped ahead, "We have to find him!"

England sighed, "Wait, uh…Oh…" He sighed, realizing he would have to go with him.

He sighed and turned around, going after America.

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><p><em><strong>Yeah, I lied. The flashback will be in the next chapter. I tried to make this one a bit longer<strong>_

_**Reveiw! Cookiez for everyone!**_


	6. Chapter 5

America trotted on his horse, he had decided to start looking at Montgomery.

As he looked around him he couldn't help but remember when he had first met his little brother.

_He had been taking care of his horse when England walked in, grinning like a fool._

_America frowned and turned to him, "What are you so happy about?"_

_England looked at him, still smiling. "I think I just found your little brother."_

_America blinked, "Little brother?"_

_England nodded, opening the stall door to reveal a small boy standing by him._

_He had England's emerald green eyes and Spain's brown hair. He was holding a large white teddy bear. He looked up at America and blinked, "Hello…" he squeaked._

_England smiled, "This is Beauregard Johnson, or Beau. He's the south."_

_America blinked and looked down at Beau. He smiled, "I'm America, your older brother."_

_Beau blinked, tilting his head, "My brother? I didn't know I had a brother."_

_America nodded, even though he couldn't see that Beau bore any resemblance to himself, he could feel it._

_Beau pointed to the stable by the one America was standing in, "What's that?"_

_America looked over, the mare in that stable had a small foal with her; black and white pinto colt._

_"Which one?" America asked._

_Beau pointed to the colt, "That one. He's pretty."_

_America leaned on the door, picking up Beau and letting him sit on the edge, "He was just born last week. We were going to sell him once he grew to a stallion." Then America looked at Beau, "Unless…You want him."_

_Beau smiled and bobbed his head, "Yeah! I'll name him…" He looked at the colt and thought for a moment, "Patch!"_

_America smiled, standing up and taking Beau down from the door, "Alright then, Patch is yours."_

_Beau smiled, "When can I ride him?"_

_America thought, "It'll be about another month or less before he's big enough to ride."_

_By this time, England had left._

_Beau smiled, "Okay!"_

That was why America had been so upset when he found out that Beau's horse was dead.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

There was a loud thud and England yelped, "Bloody heck! She's collapsed!"

America turned around to see that England's horse was on the ground, puffing for breath with England still on its back.

England looked up at America, "America. She can't go anymore; we have to rest. It's getting dark anyways; we won't be able to see."

As much as America wanted to argue, he nodded. "Get her over there, off the path." He pointed to a place in the woods.

England nodded, getting off of the horse and pulling her up, "Come on, mate. Just a few more steps."

America followed England.

England was already setting up camp. He took off his horse's saddle and put it on the ground, before laying down and resting his head on it, he turned to America, "You should do the same."

America nodded, repeating what England had done.

He laid on his back and looked up at the stars longingly.

Beau was out there somewhere, he knew it. He just wished he knew where.

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><p><strong><em>I'm sad that I've got two hundred hits for this story but only two reveiws. Which is why I'm not going to update until I have at least ten reveiws.<em>**

**_So, Reveiw! _**


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